Once A Malfoy, Always A Malfoy
by mel-smart
Summary: Draco Malfoy denies his father and befriends a Gryffindor. It seems like he's changed, until one dark night he joins the Death Eaters. Was it all just an act?
1. Thinking at Hogwarts

"How are you this morning Draco?" Pansy simpered, sliding into the chair next to him.

"Fine," he replied tersely, unwilling to make conversation. His mind was too full of his father's warning of trouble to come. He didn't know what to expect, to all appearances the school had returned to normal after another one of Harry Potter's terrible and fame-earning ordeals at the end of last year.

Pansy brushed against him reaching for the pumpkin juice, trying to attract his attention but not daring enough to disturb him.

He ignored the movement, thinking that the golden trio had calmed down and even the Slytherins had concealed whatever they thought of it. They had returned to smaller schemes, none of which had revealed themselves to include him.

Draco brooded into his scrambled eggs, his mind full of uneasy thoughts. His father had been pressuring him too much, he knew the wonderful opportunity of becoming a death eater would soon be open to him.

He laughed to himself. Wonderful opportunity. To serve a pathetic wizard who has been defeated five times by a mere child by bringing death and darkness to the world. How could he refuse? He asked himself sarcastically.

Knowing his opinions would not change the inevitability of his future; he cast his eyes around the hall for a more interesting topic, looking to the Gryffindor table sure of what he would see.

And he was right. Once more, Hermione's eyes locked onto his. They went through this nearly every meal now, testing each other, waiting to see who would break first. He didn't understand why she wasted her time. Everyone knew Malfoys hated muggle-borns, and Potter and his other sidekick made it no secret the feeling was mutual. Still. He couldn't look away.

A wind fluttered in as hundreds of owls swept through the great windows, showering the hall with letters and parcels. Draco brushed his hair back with a hand, returning each strand to its place. Hermione raised an eyebrow at his feminine behaviour.

Draco's look hardened to ice. His eyes, now slits under his brow, searched her unchanging face, seeking an answer. The rational side of him said it was just a joke. Maybe even flirting. But the rest of him was sure it was an insult. An insult to his family. A criticism from someone who knew he could do no better than conform to the Malfoy stereotype.

Rising out of his chair, he swept out of the hall, not noticing the worry on Hermione's face as she watched him leave. But she wouldn't let him escape again. Making her excuses to Ron, she followed Malfoy's path.

But neither of them knew another had seen the intercourse. Pansy Parkinson's own eyes had darkened. She would not have the boy destined to be her groom chasing after a Gryffindor. 'Hell hath no fury as a woman scorned.'


	2. Seeing Snape

Draco helped himself to another muffin. He had stayed up late last night, working on Arithmacy. He was pleased with the fact that not only had he finished the assignment but done some further research and found another meaning to the charts. Pleased with himself, he sat contently at the Slytherin table, aware that Pansy had not yet arrived and no one was concentrating on him, so he could relax.

As he chewed his muffin, his eyes flittered to the Gryfindor Table. They all looked so happy just to be alive, and enjoying each other's company, sure that no matter what would come in the future, they would always have happy memories of their time at Hogwarts.

He was drawn to Hermione. She was a part of the trio, but she seemed more sensible. He knew she was top in all her classes. He would love to test her in Arithmacy, but he had it with the Hufflepuffs and her with the Ravenclaws.

With an acute sense for when she was being watched, Hermione scanned the hall for the eyes that had stayed so long on her form. They reached Draco's. He could read no emotion in them, see no thoughts on her face. Anger rushed up inside him. Why wouldn't she turn away? Why did she have to hold his gaze? She was judging him. Making assumptions because of his name.

Suddenly, he stood up, ignoring the calculating glances of the other Slytherins that were meant to appear caring, and the suspicious glares from the other three houses, sure that he was off to go do something evil. Would he ever be free of his reputation? Would he ever just be able to go and come as he pleased, not watched and followed at every turn?

He thudded through the halls in a temper. They had no right to judge him. They didn't care. They just wanted to label him a death eater and ship him into exile. They didn't know what he had been through. The angry words, the beatings. Seeing his mother…

He thrust it out of his mind. "They can go to hell" he told himself savagely. But another voice spoke up. "That's where you're going if you keep this up."

Snarling, he smashed his fist into the wall, but ended up with nothing more that bleeding knuckles. He needed to do something. No matter what he thought of them, he couldn't let them die. He couldn't let his father's plan be put into motion. It was something he hadn't even entrusted to him, so it must be bad. He had to do something. Anything.

Slumping against the wall, he ran the options through his head. But none of them would work. Not matter what he tried, his father would find out, and Lucius was not a man to mess with. He would know immediately if his son was getting in his way, and then Draco's life wouldn't be worth living.

Snape floated into the chaos of his thoughts. Draco had known he was a spy ever since he had overheard a conversation he had had with Dumbledore. But that information he had kept to himself. He hadn't known why, but he didn't want to tell his father that the surly old man was fighting for the other side. But know he knew. Snape was right. What good was working for some half-blood freak who demanded your total loyalty. What good was killing people because they had parents different than yours.

Draco decided to go to him. He would know what to do. He would help him. Draco wasn't going to kid himself. He knew Lucius would have no regrets about killing him if he found out he didn't want to follow in his footsteps. Becoming a spy would be dangerous, but it would be worth it. To see his father and Voldemort go down would be worth anything. Even his life.

Standing back up, he resumed walking down the hall- this time with purpose in his step, making his way to Snape's office. The Potions Master never stayed at the dinner long. He should be there by now.

Draco knocked tentatively on the oak door, the Slytherin emblem glaring at him. What usually would have comforted him put him at unease. It was swung open by a frustrated Potions Master with his trademark scowl in place, but his expression softened when he saw who it was.

"Come in."

Draco followed Snape to the chairs in middle of the room, surveying the lounge. It was all done in oak, with the expensive furniture surrounded with dark flourishes. Following Snape's example, he settled in one, sure he appeared much more confident than he felt.

"Is there something you wanted to talk to me about?" Snape asked, drawing his attention away from the décor.

"You're a spy for Dumbledore," he responded, watching him carefully for any reactions.

But he was disappointed. Snape simply stared at him. How could he know? Had he told Lucius? Was he here to take him away? How had he blown his cover? What to do now?

Draco waited a second longer before continuing. "I haven't told Lucius."

Why? Why wouldn't he? Does he want to win favor with the Dark Lord? No, he seems nervous himself. Maybe… No. It's impossible. Why would Draco Malfoy go against his father?

Draco still saw no expression. He took it as a good sign.

"I respect you for it."

Snape battled to control his expression. How could he respect me? His father…

But the slight widening of his eyes was not lost on Draco. Neither was the look of contemplating and certainty in his eyes.

"You're thinking about my father, aren't you." It was a statement, not a question. "That's all anyone sees me as. A replica of my father." He still spoke as if commenting on the weather, not betraying bitterness in his voice.

"Is that why you're here?" Snape questioned. "To show them they're wrong?

A Malfoy would be a wonderful asset, but if his loyalties were not strong enough. His hate for his father might not extend to Voldemort.

Draco's face hardened at the question.

"No." The change of tone surprised the teacher. "My whole life a set of beliefs have been forced onto me. But I don't believe in them. I don't want to become a heartless bastard like my father. I thought coming to you would be the right idea. I thought maybe you might see me as someone other than my father. But I was wrong. No matter. I will do everything within my power to bring Lucius Malfoy to justice, with or without your help."

Snape felt a taste of this young Malfoy's wrath, his eyes drilling into him, his features held in a shape of power and determination, with no room for failure. His words cut the air, like spears of ice ready to surround him if he angered the boy any further.

"We can set up a safe house for you until the war is over," Snape kept his signature scowl on, not about to admit how happy he was.

"I do not wish to hide, Professor. That will help no one," his words were still ice-cold, but it was not with anger. More with regret. "I wish to become a spy."

Snape felt the joy that had been building up in him fall.

"A spy." His voice was flat.

Draco nodded. "My father" he spat the word. "still trusts me. He thinks it is nearly time to take my place beside him."

Snape sat there, thinking. It was a wonderful opportunity. His own loyalty was in question, but Draco would be accepted into the inner circle without question. He knew he shouldn't let someone so young throw their life away, but the order needed information badly.

"Very well. We will need to speak to Dumbledore."

It was Draco's turn to scowl. He might be willing to go against the basic beliefs

he had been taught, but he still didn't like Albus.

"Let's get it over with."

"You don't want some more time to think this over?"

Draco answered by standing. "I have been thinking this over since I was 12 years old, Professor. The sooner we start the sooner we finish."


End file.
